


Sweat

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: It all starts one night over the Easter holiday when they are all crammed into the Burrow for the weekend.





	Sweat

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be in the form of a series of drabbles/short fics, with one drabble per chapter.
> 
> Thank you meshkol for betaing!

Even with Ron and Harry away on a case, there were not nearly enough places to sleep at the Burrow. Hermione blew a stray curl out of her eyes as she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor to hunt for an empty bedroom. 

It was probably a good thing Ron was not around tonight, or else they’d most certainly have to share. It was bad enough they had to pretend to be happy in front of the whole family. A family she felt like an interloper in ever since she and Ron had unofficially stopped having sex—oh, months ago now—like some kind of antiquated marital guilt trip. Rushing into marriage after the war had been one of her less smart ideas. Truthfully, it wasn’t surprising that it had taken them less than five years to drift so devastatingly apart. 

She pushed open the first door on her right, and immediately her breath caught in her throat. She was going to try and say something, was about to force out a sound, like a cough or a gasp or even a word like sorry. But her whole body tensed and _burned_ at the sight of him. 

Percy grasping his cock, the sight of him clear and right there, in the mirror. He hadn’t even heard her and had yet to look up and see her wide-eyed reflection in the doorway behind him. He was obliviously, wonderfully consumed in passion. It was written all over his face, in his relaxed brow and slack jaw, and in the way little huffs of breath left past his thin, pink lips. 

His fervour was evident in the way his legs splayed open, with one knee bent up. Even his state of half-dress betrayed his eagerness to touch himself; he hadn’t even fully removed his clothing, just undid his trousers enough to pull his cock out and lifted his shirt enough to reveal hip bones and a hint of flat stomach. The light dusting of hair on his lower abdomen became thicker as it traveled down, meeting the neatly trimmed groin that was so Percy. Orderly, precise Percy with his rectangle wire-frame glasses and his ironed ties. 

Well his tie was flung around his shoulder now, the knot loosened at the neck. Loosened just like he was, like Hermione had never seen him before. 

And his cock… _Fuck_. Long and straight and hard, flushed red at the tip, which peeked out from inside the circle of his fist on every downstroke. 

She wanted it. The certain desire hit her right in the gut: she wanted Percy’s cock… in her, in whatever way possible. In her mouth, so she could make him moan. In her pussy, so that he could make her. 

And god, the thought of him fucking her, _with that cock._

And that’s when she groaned. Fucking out loud, like an idiot. Percy stilled, his eyes flying open. They latched onto hers in the mirror and held her there, frozen under his stare. It felt like her heart had stopped. 

She should really go. Just shut the door, turn around, and then ignore Percy for the rest of the hols. That would be easy to do, wouldn’t it? In a house so small there weren’t even enough bedrooms? 

Besides, this was Ron’s brother. This was Percy, whom she’d known for years, ever since she’d been sorted, actually. She worked with him now. She saw him nearly every day, more than she saw Ron, even. In his shirt and tie, so modern yet so pompous all at once. In those slim-fitting trousers, so neatly pressed—and why had she never noticed how well they hugged his arse? Or perhaps she had and she had just shoved that knowledge deep down where it could never resurface. 

This was Ron’s brother. 

Percy’s pupils were blown, dark and full of complication. There was something dark and heavy in his gaze that made her sizzle from the inside. She wanted more than anything to know what he was thinking in that brilliant head of his, as he stared at her and wouldn’t let her go. And that was when he started moving again, just a light flick of his wrist, a squeeze of his fingers. His thumb swept over the head, smearing the foggy precome over the rounded tip, and then he started to move his fist up and down. All the time, his eyes never left hers. She watched him in silence, as if she could still pretend she wasn’t there. 

When Percy came, his eyes fluttering and his brow furrowing, Hermione let out a small, strangled moan that carried all the depth and desperation of her longing on that one dangerous sound. 

Even after she’d come to her senses and whispered a hasty apology, pulling the door shut with a jarring slam, going downstairs to help Molly in the kitchen just to distract herself with something normal, something wholesome, something to do with her hands... she could still see Percy’s face. 

He’d been so gorgeous in that moment. 


End file.
